Inevitability
by NeueHaasGrotesk
Summary: Kaito cleans the house, rediscovers a photo album, and gets questioned about a mug by his own husband.


A.N: Un-betaed. Honorary mention to Hopie's OC / Hakuba's grandfather who is arguably either the best or the worst lawyer in the country depending on who you are

* * *

Kaito has been suspiciously quiet for the past fifteen minutes.

It's house-cleaning day, the third Saturday of every month during which Kaito turns their entire house upside down looking for an excuse to dust and to relegate Saguru's extensive Sherlock Holmes collection into the storeroom with the roomba that they've never used. Saguru's job during this day would be to drift after Kaito as he works from room to room, being careful not to get in the way of his constant dusting or cleaning or polishing. Usually, Kaito would find something to grouse about: the amount of clothing Saguru owns, or how they should switch their old bookshelf out for a larger one, and maybe Saguru should buy a new mirror to replace the chipped one in the bathroom. If, when he does find something to talk about, Saguru's responsibility then would be to make a series of appeasing, noncommittal sounds. His actual job doesn't actually begin until Kaito has worn himself out on cleaning, his husband finally emerging from the rooms looking sweaty, dusty, and pleased. When that happens, usually around six in the evening and the house still looks the same (except for the kitchen table that might have been shifted an inch to the left), Saguru will set aside whatever it is he had been working on previously to bundle him off for a hot bath, and to cook him a feast as gratitude. As habit will have it, Kaito's constant chatter allows Saguru to track his progress with an absent ear as he works on polishing a story he is currently writing.

The house is quiet now, and Kaito isn't making a sound.

It takes a few minutes for the silence to register with him, longer still for him to take an active notice. Pausing in his typing, Saguru sets his laptop aside, and sets off in the direction of the library where he remembers last hearing Kaito's voice from. The floor is slippery from the polish Kaito had been using on his flooring sheets, and Saguru nearly slips twice before he reaches the door to their library. "Kaito?"

"In here." Unlike anything he had imagined, Kaito is sitting cross-legged on the floor and perusing a heavy album with interest. Allowing himself a quiet sigh of relief, Saguru joins him on the floor when Kaito gestures at him. "Look."

It's a somewhat old album, dating back to approximately four years and twenty-seven days ago. Saguru remembers taking the photos with a sad looking digital camera he had discovered from amongst Kaito's belongings when they were first moving into their new house, the battery half run down and memory card near to full with pictures of all the houses they had considered purchasing before they had settled on their current one. Chasing Kaito around the house with it until he had given in and settled on looking exasperatedly at the camera each time Saguru took a picture is still a pretty good memory that he revisits whenever he is bored and can't sleep.

"These pictures are old."

"I'm old," Saguru points out, and receives a jab from Kaito's elbow to his ribs for his trouble. "Ow. Domestic violence."

"You are as old as I am." Kaito says, most of his attention on the photos. "Don't be insulting. This reminds me of when we had to sleep on the floor because you messed up the delivery date for our bed."

"Now." Drawing himself up straight, Saguru does his best to look indignant. "I did nothing of the sort. The furniture company messed up the delivery date—"

"After which you said let's buy a bed from IKEA until our actual bed gets here, which was when I realised I had married an incompetent for the rest of my life—"

The quiet gasp Kaito makes into his mouth when Saguru kisses him is gratifying. Curling an arm around his slender waist, he drags Kaito close until the heavy weight of him is spilled into his lap, taking greedy, sipping kisses from his lips till Kaito pushes at his shoulders, needing air.

"You do realise that kissing me changes nothing." Brushing a kiss over his forehead, Kaito presses his hands to Saguru's cheeks, the tips of their noses touching. "You're daft, and incompetent, but because I love you, I chose to marry you."

"For life."

"For life!" Feigning alarm, Kaito pulls away. "Oh, well. I do suppose there is this thing called divorce that I'm sure your grandfather can help with."

"He's my grandfather." The grin on Kaito's face widens, and whenever Saguru thinks it's impossible to love him any more than he already is, he does. "If he's going to be on anyone's side, it'll be mine."

"Because I'm rich, and just you wait until my grandfather hears about this." Modulating his voice into Saguru's own, Kaito smirks at him. "No one divorces a Hakuba."

"It would be nice if you will kindly stop borrowing my voice to parrot my own words back at me." Following the curve of Kaito's back down to the swell of his arse, Saguru gives it a squeeze. "All these years of growing up, and you're as insufferable as ever."

"It's good to be consistent." Kaito says, dryly, reaching behind him to return Saguru's hands pointedly back into his own lap. "Now kindly leave off the molesting so I can reminisce in peace."

Most of the pictures in the album were taken by Saguru, with snapshots in between for when Kaito had wrestled the camera from him. He doesn't have an eye for photography like Kaito, the photos clearly amateurishly taken, but he's proud of the fact that Kaito had liked them enough to print every single one of them out as opposed to deleting them like he said he would.

Bare and devoid of furniture and various mismatching decor that is more Kaito's work than Saguru's own, the house is near to unrecognisable. The pictures are saturated with sunlight, clusters of boxes infesting the corners of every single room he sees. In them, Kaito is a blur of movement, running on ahead out of frame laughing, always laughing, as the focus tries and fails to capture him time and again.

He's much calmer on the next page. Fully stretched out on the floor and half buried in a snowy mound of packing peanuts, Kaito has an arm thrown up over his head, aiming a lazy, beckoning grin at him. Saguru vaguely remembers having just cleaned the floor seconds before Kaito had decided to make a mess on it. There's Kaito, sitting on the kitchen counter with a dish of butter next to him, about to take a bite out of his sandwich, a smear of mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth because if there is anything Saguru has learned about him, it's that his husband is very messy (and hence the constant cleaning). Kaito, hands on his hips and confronting the small pile of boxes towering over him against the wall. Kaito, again, crouched low on the floor as he coaxes a fat, fluffy grey cat that they later learn belongs to their neighbour (who apparently has a penchant for brief bouts of freedom) with a small handful of blueberries.

"Ah, this reminds me." Saguru stops Kaito from turning the page, pointing at a photo of him reaching up into the kitchen cabinet, a mug sitting out on the counter in a nest of tissue paper. "Where is this mug? I never do see you with it."

"It's with the dining set the Hattoris gifted us. Why?"

"I bought it for you." Saguru is far too old to be sulking, but it's a near thing. "You're supposed to use it."

"You bought me a Noritake and expect me to use it every day when you know I'm not particularly careful with the kitchenware?" Kaito throws him an incredulous look. "I don't have a proper occasion for drinking soda out of it. Any occasion, for that matter. But it is very nice to look at."

A beat of silence, Saguru staring back at him. "You weren't supposed to know it's a Noritake."

"I'm trained in these things, Saguru." Kaito says patiently, gently dislodging his hand from the album and turning the page. "I'm a jewel thief, amongst interest in various other antiquities, and it's something of a pre-requisite. Even if I weren't, there is the authenticity stamp on the bottom. I'm neither blind nor senile."

"Astounding, considering the fact that you were only in high school then." It isn't often that Kaito voluntarily speaks about his history as the Kaitou KID, and out of respect for his privacy, sensing a deep hurt that Kaito had buried, Saguru had never asked him about it. "Is that common, now? Training children to identify the authenticity and grade of precious stones and antiques by sight."

"It wasn't so much of training than over sharing of her hobby. She—I mean the Phantom Lady—had always wanted someone to talk with who can appreciate these things. I think she thought it was fun, setting me on those assignments. But it's hard to say no when she's your mum. That's all part of old history, now." Seemingly oblivious to the bombshell that he had just dropped on Saguru, Kaito hums at a picture of Saguru brushing his teeth over the kitchen sink.

"The Phantom Lady." Saguru repeats weakly. "Your mother."

"The same woman whom you tried serving dinner to on cheap, plastic plates out of spite because she interrupted you when you wanted to get me into bed, yes." Catching on to Saguru's horror, ever the impertinent imp, Kaito grins. "She hasn't forgotten."

"And you did not think to stop me." Assuming that Kaito takes after his mother, buying his way back into her good graces will be impossible. He is going to have to resort to grovelling, or something equally as embarrassing. "You—"

"The thought did cross my mind, but whyever would I do that?" Shrugging, Kaito pats him patronizingly on the cheek. "Be honest with yourself. It wouldn't have made a difference. And it was amusing."

The sound Kaito makes when Saguru tackles him is a cross between a shriek and a squeak. Swatting at him, Kaito attempts to squirm his way free, gasping when Saguru catches hold of his wrists, pinned down by his weight when Saguru sits on him.

He's still laughing, of course. The brat.

"You've gotten much poorer at escaping." Saguru says, nipping on Kaito's earlobe playfully and feeling a responding shudder go through him. "That's for laughing at my plight."

"Ah—as you've said, I've grown old. And you've had a lot more practice." Breathless, Kaito tries to break free of the hold Saguru has on his wrists to no avail. "So much has changed since our marriage."

"So much has changed since meeting you." Correcting him, Saguru lets go of Kaito's wrists, Kaito immediately putting his arms around his neck and pulling him down close. "Since wanting to be a better person for you."

"If only your marriage proposal was as romantic." A hand curls into his hair, Saguru smiling at the affection in Kaito's voice despite his words. "The years I've spent with you have been very kind. And looking back, if I hadn't made the same choices I did that led us to today—"

"One way or another, with or without me, I'm sure you would have found your own happiness." Shushing him, Saguru leans down to touch their foreheads together. "You're tenacious, clever, stubborn, and kind. I wouldn't say that it would have been easy, but you would have found a way. It's in your nature." A quiet exhale, Kaito closing his eyes as Saguru brushes a gentle kiss over his eyelids. "I'm glad you chose to spend those years with me, Kaito. For choosing to share your joys, your sorrows, your hopes and your fears with me. I can only hope that I did the same for you as you did for me. Thank you, Kaito, for all the fulfilling and joyous years."

"I'm," Kaito says, and he's biting down on his lower lip, cheeks pink. "I'm not dead yet. But. You are. You did. And." He shudders on an inhale. "I love you. For all those years and all the rest to come."

Smoothing Kaito's fringe back from his face, the both of them nicely on their way to their thirties, no longer as limber or as sprightly as they once were, as lonely or as furious, Saguru kisses him, breathing a silent promise. "I know you do."


End file.
